


Death and Love

by DefiantDreams



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiantDreams/pseuds/DefiantDreams
Summary: Death always thought that the saddest lives to take are the lives of those who are well loved.For a moment, Death doesn't want to take the life of the beautiful, bed-ridden man with the striking blue eyes.But he must.OrX times Death takes from Katsuki Yuuri and the one time that he gives.





	

**Author's Note:**

> they say the best cure to writer’s block is to write so here’s a little oneshot i made while trying to write the second chapter of red light.

The first time Death takes from him, he hasn’t even know true love yet. He still does not know how it feels to truly be loved and to truly live. There’s still an innocence in his bones at 23 years old.

The first time Death takes from him, he takes a little poodle with the name of Vicchan, cute and sweet, the light of the Katsuki household.

_"Vicchan, no!"_

A screech, a thud, a scream.

_"Oh my god."_

The next day, Katsuki Yuuri bombs the Grand Prix Finals.

That week, Viktor Nikiforov falls in love.

The little poodle asks to see his master again and Death grants its wish. It’s been 5 years since they’ve seen each other but even now, Yuuri doesn’t notice the streak of brown running beside him on the ice. Later, when his master is sobbing in the bathroom, Vicchan valiantly tries to lick away his tears.

It's the first time Death takes from Katsuki Yuuri, but it's not the last.

\---

The second time Death takes from him, he takes a dog named Makkachin, a poodle who resembles the one he took before. Yuuri has discovered love by then. A love full of morning cuddles, a love so warm you’d be surprised when you realized it was born of ice.

Makkachin had to be put down. His old body couldn’t handle the strain anymore. His brown fur had turned gray, his eyes had turned milky and every day hurt him.

Viktor Nikiforov cries like a baby in the vet's clinic. Ugly tears streaming out of his eyes, loud sobs wracking his body. He’s hanging on only by the anchor of Yuuri beside him, holding on to him and rubbing a soothing hand down his back. Tears are running down Yuuri’s face but he knows that Viktor needs this more than him, needs to be able to grieve and mourn.

A sprightly young spirit bounces beside him, a low whine rumbling through his lithe body and Death lets the spirit trot over to the couple and frantically try to lick at their faces. Just a few moments ago, the old dog wouldn’t have been able to do that.

Death used to wonder how dying could be sad when it returns you to the peak of your physical life. Death understands little, but he understands now that being able to run and jump again doesn’t compare to being able to feel a warm hug and being pet.

\---

The third time Death takes from him, it's 6 years later.

It comes with a call in the middle of the night.

"Mhmm, Viktor, answer the phone.”

They’re barely awake, their room dark and cold. Their bodies are warm where they’re wrapped around each other and the only light is the one from Viktor’s phone.

A grumble and a sigh as sheets shift against a lean body. Viktor reaches out and presses his phone to his ear with a mumbled greeting.

“He’s gone.” Words gasped out as if the speaker is struggling to speak, harsh sobs making their way through the phone.

Despair cuts through the haze of sleep and Viktor is suddenly and achingly awake.

“We’ll be there.”

It was expected, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It’s true that the most painful goodbyes are the ones you never get to say, but Death understands the pain of saying good bye over and over, never really knowing which one is the last.

It’s not the first time someone has cursed Death’s name and it’s not the first time someone’s asked _why_. It’s okay. Death’s used to it by now.

He waits with the old man’s spirit until Viktor and Yuuri burst through the hospital doors and Yuuri embraces his mother and Mari. He ignores the tears in the spirit’s eyes as he watches the Katsuki family sob brokenly in each other’s arms. Viktor is standing there silently, ready to help and ready to love.

The spirit approaches them and joins his family in one last, lingering embrace. The three of them shiver slightly and Death notes the bits of his spirit that he leaves behind in all of their hearts, warm and brown like the Earth. A reminder of his loyal, steadfast and dependable love.

“I’m ready to go now,” The spirit says softly and Death nods. There’s an acceptance in his tone. He is only 60 years old, but he had lived a long, happy life. 

Death has no regrets in taking him, because Katsuki Toshiya has no regrets in life.

\---

Death comes back to take Katsuki Hiroko and Katsuki Mari. Toshiya goes with him for both. It’s the fourth and the fifth time he takes from him.

Yuuri cries at both their deaths and Viktor stays beside him through it all, a solid presence to show that he’s not alone.

Hiroko leaves white in her son’s heart, a symbol of her pure love and a reminder to be good. Mari leaves the color blue to show her loyalty and a reminder to be confident.

They leave with light hearts, the brown in their hearts joyful in the presence of their source.

They leave Yuuri with the confidence that he is being taken care of by the silver-haired man, their son-in-law, their brother.

They leave Yuuri, but a part of them stays in his heart.

\---

The sixth time Death takes from him, he changes _us_ to me, changes _them_ to him.

Death always thought that the saddest lives to take are the lives of those who are well loved.

For a moment, Death doesn't want to take the life of the beautiful, bed-ridden man with the striking blue eyes.

But he must.

He steps out of the shadows and reaches out.

“No.” The man says clearly, his eyes locked straight into Death’s with no hint of fear. Death pauses.

“Who are you talking to, old man?” 

Death recognizes the 56 year old man at his target’s bedside. He saw him once before many years ago. He was just a boy settling into adulthood then, 20 years old and still full of spitfire and spark that had dimmed slightly when Death took Nikolai Plisetsky. Death realizes that he must take another life in front of him. He should be sorry, but he's not. He can’t do anything about it.

Viktor doesn’t take his eyes off Death as he shakes his head. “Wait for Yuuri,” he mumbles and Death understands. 

He waits.

Katsuki Yuuri enters the room and it’s only then that Viktor relaxes. Death can feel him starting to let go and give in to the sleep tugging at his eyelids. Death can feel the determined, tiny grasp Viktor has left on consciousness and life.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says softly and cheerfully and a weak heart-shaped smile graces his face.

Yuuri drops down into the chair on the other side of the bed, facing Yuri.

“I’m here.” Soft and gentle, a reassurance and a declaration of love all the same.

Viktor reaches out to brush a hand through wrinkled cheeks and Yuuri catches it with his own, holding on it tightly with a small, sad smile.

“I love you, Viktor.”

“I love you, Katsuki Yuuri. Я люблю тебя всей душой. 愛してるよ.”

If you had asked a younger Viktor what he wanted his last words to be, he would be proud to tell you that that was it. Katsuki Yuuri had given him life and love and it’s only fitting that Viktor would give his last words to him.

When Yuri embraces his namesake and lets the older man sob against his chest, Death is reminded of decades ago when the couple did the same for him. Yuuri had held a much smaller Russian then and now Yuri is the one comforting Yuuri. Death watches as Viktor’s spirit touches Yuri’s shoulder in a gesture full of gratefulness. He can’t be there for Yuuri now, but he’s at ease at the knowledge that his protege is. At his touch, a little bit of Viktor’s spirit settles in Yuri’s heart, a blue that sits comfortably beside Nikolai’s brown. If Nikolai’s brown helped keep Yuri grounded in love, Viktor’s blue is a reminder to reach for the sky and to keep breaking through barriers.

The spirit insists on embracing Yuuri before he goes and when he wraps his husband in his arms, he kisses Yuuri’s forehead one last time. Through his kiss, Death sees Viktor leave a little bit of him, a little bit of his gold, in his husband. Yuuri shivers a bit at the embrace and lifts his hand to press a trembling kiss to his ring. 

The gold in Yuuri’s heart is not the same shade as the gold medals that had once adorned their necks nor is it the same shade as the trophies on their wall. Instead, the gold in Yuuri’s heart is the same shade as the ring on his finger and the ring on Viktor’s. A reminder that he is loved, he is loved, _he is loved_. 

Death realizes a little too late that he didn’t change _us_ to me or changed _them_ to him. How could he? Their house couldn’t be anything but _theirs,_ and they’ve shared too much for _them_ to become him. They say the ones you love never truly leave you and Death knows that Yuuri carries a bit of Viktor with him everywhere he goes. 

Katsuki Yuuri is 64 years old and he is not alone.

\---

The next time Death takes from him, Death only sees a glimpse.

“He’s already lost so much.”

Death doesn’t answer. Death doesn’t tell him that’s how life works. You live, you love, you lose. Everyone loses much in the end and Katsuki Yuuri is just one man among many.

Phichit Chulanont’s spirit leans over the podium where his best friend is giving a eulogy. He was 71 years old when he had died last week from a heart attack. His wish to Death was to see his funeral. He’s not the first who has asked, and he’s not going to be the first that Death denies.

Yuuri is 74 now and it’s been 10 years since Viktor has died. He still wears his ring and Death still sees the bit of Viktor in Yuuri’s heart. It’s still shining the same bright gold and every so often, Yuuri would reach up to touch his chest. Death doesn’t think Yuuri’s aware of the part of his husband that he carries around with him.

He watches as Phichit reaches up and rests tender, caramel hands on Yuuri’s tear-stained cheeks. Yuuri shivers and closes his eyes slightly.

“Khop khun khap,” Phichit says softly and bright yellow passes from his hands to settle in Yuuri’s heart. Death can see the gold, the yellow, the brown and the other colors in Yuuri’s heart mingle slightly before it rests, blending slightly into each other. The yellow is bright and cheerful, a sun in Yuuri’s heart. Phichit had brought happiness and joy into Yuuri’s life and when he leaves, the happy memories will stay.

“Khop khun khap, Phichit,” Yuuri says shakily and Phichit freezes as he stares at Yuuri in awe. Yuuri is looking at the audience, but with Phichit in front of him, Death lets the spirit believe Yuuri is addressing him directly.

Phichit leaves a bit of himself in a few more people and Death is still curious how spirits just _know_ they can do that. He supposes that they see the bits in their soul that aren’t quite theirs, the bits in their soul that sing of people they have loved and lost and they realize they can do the same.

Phichit goes with him quietly, at peace with the knowledge that he has touched people’s lives.

\---

The last time Death touches his life, Death comes for him and _gives._

He stands in front of the man with white hair and wrinkled hands. He stands in front of the man with milky white, unseeing eyes that somehow seem to be staring right at him. 

Death feels something brush against his cloak and he looks down to see a man with beautiful silver hair, looking no older than 35.

The fear that had filled the eyes of the old man in front of him disappears. All Death can see is joy.

A smile graces the beautiful man's face and Death doesn't stop him when he goes towards the man on the bed. He insisted on coming and Death couldn't say no, not when he knew it made it easier on his part.

"Yuuri." Soft and gentle and full of so much love that if Death could shed tears, he wouldn’t be able to control them right now.

A wide smile crosses the old man's face.

" _Viktor_."

"I've been waiting for you. Are you ready to go?”

“I’m scared.” Hush and quiet, painful in its admission.

“Zolotse, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I love you, Viktor Nikiforov. Я люблю тебя всей душой. 愛してるよ.”

A wide heart-shaped smile lights up the spirit’s face. Death remembers 12 years ago when the spirit had used his dying breath, his last words, to declare his love for his husband. It’s fitting then that Yuuri’s last words are the same as Viktor’s.

Death takes that as his cue and reaches out and gently pulls until with the old man’s last breath, a young Japanese man with short black hair and blue rimmed glasses appears.

The two spirits embrace and the gold in Yuuri’s heart sings with joy at the reunion.

“People have been waiting for you,” Viktor says to Yuuri and Yuuri’s eyes widen. The different colors in his chest seem to dance in glee as if they _know_.

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand but Death's eyes are on the smile on the old man's wrinkled face.

Katsuki Yuuri is 76 years old.

They say Katsuki Yuuri embraced death when it came for him in his sleep but Death knew better.

**Author's Note:**

> u know what makes me sad? japanese males live 15 years longer in average compared to russian males. :-(
> 
> unbetaed but hope u enjoyed anyway!
> 
> Follow me @ [Tumblr](https://gia-comeatme.tumblr.com) if ur into Chris and want fic updates. It's a secondary blog but I'll follow u back w my main <3


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